“I try my hand at being myself”. Bob Dylan
I came to home educating, marriage, child-rearing at different times in my life than most people I know. I came to it with different struggles, different preconceptions about it all. I came to adulthood with different experiences. I travelled to different places. I saw eleven schools before graduating high school. My mental space was pre-formed by these and many other experiences.
I’m fully aware that everyone around me has profoundly different experiences of the world. They experienced family relationships differently than me. They had a different education than me. They chose to have children for different reasons. They saw different music concerts than I did. Their iPod is filled with music I might never have heard. And we might read different genres of books. We’re different. No surprise.
Then there shouldn’t be any wonder that we approach this lifestyle differently either. A little more liberal, a little more conservative. A little more regimented, a little more freedom. We like books textbook style, or we prefer historical fiction. No matter. We’re different. We knew we were. So we’ll not expect uniformity in our approaches.
But when we listen, when we speak truth from our hearts and when we really listen, we learn from one another. We might hear a gem of help from unexpected places, and have our path move in a more peaceful, freeing or useful direction.
That’s the beauty of being open to know and be known by others. There are always gifts to be received in the nuggets of wisdom that others share when you’re open to hearing them. There is a wealth of experience you can tap when it’s not just coming from your own story. Yours is one story in a book. Many stories make anthologies, and much wisdom. But if we don’t offer our own stories, allowing ourselves to be ourselves, we won’t give much, nor will we receive much. So I’ll try my hand at being myself.